Run
by hitmewithlightning
Summary: It's like the both of them are absolutely blind. How can you be so in love, and not realize it?
1. Chapter 1 : Time

**Chapter 1 : Time**

So it's been exactly one day, five hours, twenty-two minutes and fifteen seconds since she left the airport. One day, five hours, twenty-two minutes and sixteen seconds now, she thinks as she continues to stare listlessly at the clock on the wall in front of her.

One day, five hours, twenty-two minutes and seventeen seconds of anxious waiting - and this annoying, jittery feeling that she can't shake off. One day, five hours, twenty-two minutes and eighteen seconds of nothing.

She should really stop doing this. Ariadne sighed, stretched, and stood up from the sofa she'd been sitting on since she'd arrived back in her tiny, cramped up apartment.

What now? She thought. She couldn't very well stay holed up in her living room for the rest of her life, waiting for a job offer that she wasn't sure might even come. There were probably many more experienced and professional architects out there who would fare much better when it came to the art of extraction. Or inception. Whatever.

She frowned and slipped her hand into the pocket of her jeans, feeling around for her totem. Carefully sliding it out, she placed it gently on the coffee table and glared at it, unsure of what to do next.

Should she go back to college and pretend nothing had happened? That she hadn't taken part in a major heist that probably ruined a man's life? How could she just wander back into school and look Professor Miles in the eye now? After everything she'd been through?

_Oh my god._

Realization dawned upon her. There was no way out, was there? Once you're in, well. You're in for good. She started hyperventilating.

* * *

It was raining reasonably heavily as a man in an expensive looking three-piece suit stepped out of a cab. He walked casually into an old, rather run-down building, as though it wasn't raining at all. Carefully, methodically, he climbed the chipped cement steps, counted three flights and came to an abrupt stop in front of a green door, with the number 5 engraved upon it. Hesitating for just a second, he raised his arm and knocked, thrice on the door.

* * *

Ariadne was interrupted in the middle of her panic attack by three sharp raps on her front door. Paranoia gripped her as she thought about the possibility of Fisher having somehow discovered that he had been tricked into dissolving his father's empire. That would mean his men were probably outside, waiting to kill her for her part in the deception!

She looked around and her eyes conveniently settled upon a stack of knives sitting on her kitchen counter. They'll have to do, she thought and wondered which would be more effective, stabbing her opponent in the eye, or going straight for the gut.

Again, three more knocks on her door. Taking a deep breath, she carefully turned the knob and quickly yanked the door open, her arm held high with the kitchen knife in hand, raised to stab whoever it was waiting outside.

* * *

Arthur had never ever been so thankful for his karate training and quick reflexes. A second too late and he probably would have been missing an eye, he mused, as he grappled with Ariadne - whose own eyes were squeezed shut as she attacked him.

"Ariadne!" He snapped, and the girl in question faltered, her eyelids fluttering open at the sound of his voice.

"Oh! Arthur!" She gasped.

He raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

"Who else were you expecting?" He asked drily and stepped back, releasing her from his tight hold.

She blushed and shrugged, lowering the knife, her eyes meeting his and he feels a queasy _something_ in his stomach.

"You're wet," She muttered.

"It _is_ raining outside."

She knew exactly what her mother would have done if she had been in her position - she would have invited Arthur in and given him a hot towel to dry him off, or something like that. She wondered how exactly she was going to phrase her sentence so as not to sound absolutely retarded.

"Can I come in?" He asked, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips, "I have some issues to discuss with you."

"Y-yeah," she stuttered. Well, obviously she needn't have worried. He'd basically invited himself in.

"Alright then," she murmured, and gestured for him to enter.

* * *

**AHHH. first fanfic ever! so yes. sorry if it's not very good. :)**


	2. Chapter 2 : Raw

**Chapter 2 : Raw**

His eyes swept around the room, drinking in every little detail - a shelf filled with books, books and more books that basically took up half of her living room, and in the adjoining kitchen he could just catch a glimpse of her sink, laden with dirty plates; and finally her totem, sitting innocently on a coffee table.

"Um, hang on, I'll fetch you a towel," she told him, and ran off before he could say anything.

* * *

Ariadne opened drawer after drawer, looking for a towel. You'd think she'd remember where she placed such necessities, but after spending more than a month away from home, she realized that she must suffer from short term memory loss - quite possibly an aftereffect of the job.

Finally, after reaching deep into a pile of discarded - and probably dirty - old clothes, her hand grazed against something coarse-like, and she yanked it out. Yes! A towel! She almost let out a whoop of joy. She really hoped Arthur wouldn't mind the fact that it probably stank. Thinking fast, she grabbed a bottle of her perfume and spritzed the towel with it. There, that was better.

Ariadne basically sprinted back to her living room, and found Arthur standing right where she'd left him, only this time, he was on the phone.

Wordlessly, she handed him the towel - which now smelt ever so slightly like springtime mixed with old socks - and he nodded at her in return, a frown etched on his face.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do," he murmured into the phone, "Goodbye."

He snapped his phone shut and slid it into his pocket whilst simultaneously using one hand to dry his hair with the towel.

Ariadne had no idea why she found that so - _God forbid_ - hot.

"You shouldn't leave your totem on the table unattended," he said carelessly, gesturing towards her coffee table.

"What? Oh, uh, I didn't mean to, it's just that you kind of took me by surprise?"

Wait, what kind of response was that? He was making a statement, not asking for an explanation! She thought to herself, and resisted the urge to smack her forehead with the palm of her hand.

He didn't say anything, only smirked and continued to towel dry himself.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

He paused, and looked at her. Really looked at her - as though he was seeing her for the first time.

"I need your help. We got a job and are currently in need of an architect."

She gaped at him incredulously.

"Seriously? You want _me_?"

"Seriously. I hope the Fisher job has not scarred you," He continued, "And that you will accept. It's a relatively easy job - only two layers this time, and you won't need to be in the dream. I'll give you the details once you've agreed."

She didn't say anything, choosing instead to look down at the floor. Did she want this? Hadn't she been looking forward to another job? To be able to create and imagine again? But this could mean destroying someone else's life, her conscience argued. How could she live through such guilt?

Suddenly, a hand entered her line of vision and took hers. Instantly she felt hot all over.

"Hey, Ariadne, are you okay?" His voice had taken a softer, gentler tone.

She nodded, fixated at the sight of his hand clasping hers.

"How about you sleep on it, and get back to me tomorrow? I'll be here for this entire week anyway."

Sleep? She hadn't slept for about, hmm, let's see, a day, six hours and how many minutes now? Ariadne bit her lip.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and let go. She didn't look up. She didn't need to. She knew he would leave. It was his cue to go.

* * *

**jeng jeng jeng. :P feedback/criticism is greatly appreciated! i know it's pretty short, but the next chapter's really long. so yea. i guess it'll make up for it?**


	3. Chapter 3 : Chip

Chapter 3 : Chip

Ariadne squeezed her way through a throng of giggly British schoolgirls (she could tell by their accent - it reminded her so much of Eames; and she felt a pang in her heart) as she strolled along the Champ Elysees.

She had a break between classes and she felt this sudden urge to visit a certain cafe she used to frequent all the time.

After Arthur's visit, she'd spent the rest of the day sorting through her stuff, trying to clear her head enough to find the solution to her (nonexistent) problem. It wasn't even that hard a choice. To go, or not to go. She had been leaning towards go, actually. It was just her stupid conscience that had a problem with stealing ideas.

Finally, after flipping a coin - heads meaning she would go, tails meaning she would forget the proposition and go back to school - her decision was made, she was going to finish her degree and become a professional architect.

She hadn't bothered looking for Arthur. He hadn't given her any way to contact him anyway. Besides, it was easier, just putting everything behind her. Making herself believe that everything wasn't real - it was all just a figment of her imagination. Her wild, delirious imagination. Where cafes could explode and handsome young men would kiss her in hotel lobbies.

* * *

Arthur paced up and down his hotel room, pausing one or twice to glance at the watch he clutched so tightly in his left hand. He glanced nervously around the impeccably neat room - the bed was made, his suitcase was packed and stored neatly in a corner - yes, everything was in place.

Looking once more at his watch, the point man simultaneously grabbed his suitcase, gave a cursory glance round the room, and shut the door behind him with a resounding click.

* * *

He had no time. No time at all. Their flight was leaving at 2.35 p.m. It was currently 1.30 p.m. How the hell was he supposed to find Ariadne and get out of the hotel alive?

He sighed and slid his phone out of his pocket and dialled a number.

"Listen, Eames? Yea, I need your help."

* * *

Eames had been sipping tea by the Eiffel tower, enjoying the scenery and the company of a certain busty, French, blonde when he had been rudely interrupted.

"What do you want?" His accent grew distinctly heavier as he tried to hide his annoyance at having been disturbed.

"You have to find Ariadne for me. There's trouble."

"_What_?"

"I'll explain it all later, just help me locate the girl, alright? Oh, and you might wanna keep an eye out for any suspicious characters lurking around."

There was a click and Eames was left listening to the dial tone.

* * *

Ariadne had the strangest feeling of being followed. She could feel someone glaring holes into the back of her skull, but whenever she turned around to find the culprit, there would be no one looking especially out of the ordinary and she was left feeling insecure and foolish.

"It's just paranoia," She muttered repeatedly, trying to convince herself.

Suddenly, she felt a tap on her shoulder and she shrieked, only to find Eames glaring back at her.

"Way to go love, now you've alerted everyone of our presence," he drawled wryly, "Come on, keep moving - and act _normal_," he muttered, dragging her along.

"Normal? What the _hell_ are you doing here?" She snapped, trying to snatch her arm away from his tight hold.

"Saving your ass, sweetheart. Funny, I imagined you to be more, oh, I dunno, _enthusiastic_, since I'm here - risking my neck to bring you back to Arthur in one piece."

"Huh? Arthur? But I'm not taking the job! Let _go_ of me, Eames!"

She stopped walking abruptly and her weight jerked him backwards momentarily.

"Not the right time to act like a five year old toddler Ariadne. They're here."

"Who's here? Fisher's men?"

No reply.

Uh-oh. She could feel the fear creeping up on her again. She gulped and quickened her pace, so their roles were reversed and she was the one dragging him along.

"We need to get to the airport. Without them following us," he informed her.

"How are we gonna do that?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

* * *

Arthur stepped out of the elevator and immediately felt all eyes turn to him. Crap, they were watching him.

He calmly strolled towards the doors, acting nonchalant, though his palms slick with sweat. Gradually, he could feel the atmosphere in the lobby lighten. Conversation filled the air and it was almost normal. Thank God, he thought.

He approached the door. Roughly ten more steps till he was free, till he could -

"It's him!"

So close, Arthur thought, as he swung his briefcase around, successfully knocking the doorman who had alerted everyone of his presence to the ground. He whipped his gun out from the back of his pants, but the action was futile. There were already ten guns aimed at his head.

* * *

Suddenly, from behind them, two gunshots could be heard.

"Quick, move Ariadne, move!"

Ariadne didn't need to be told twice. She began weaving her way through the crowd of befuddled tourists, her hand grasping Eames' tightly, afraid to let go in case they might lose each other.

"Which way?" She asked frantically.

"Left, left. Always to the left."

She turned left, into an alleyway, only to realize they'd reached a dead end.

"You have nowhere else to run."

A very familiar voice told them.

Ariadne whirled around, and she knew Eames was reaching into his back pocket for his gun, but there stood, none other than Peter Browning, Robert Fisher's uncle.

* * *

**okay. this is more than a thousand words long and it took me a while to write - due to school and stuff, so i really hope you like it. thank you for all the reviews and favorites and story alerts! :) i'd really appreciate it if you tell me what you think about this chapter. till next time!**


	4. Chapter 4 : High

**Chapter 4 : High**

"No sudden movements," Eames muttered, glaring at Browning over the barrel of his gun.

"It's a dead end! I thought you were supposed to know where we're going!" Ariadne couldn't help murmuring angrily at Eames. He shrugged her off.

"Son, I don't think you have the right to be giving me orders right now. I've got two snipers on the roof who wouldn't hesitate to take the both of you out if I wanted the to."

Eames hesitated and Ariadne felt her heart fall to her feet.

"Put the gun down and we can talk. There's no need for any physical violence, now is there? I promise I won't hurt you," He said warmly.

But Ariadne knew better. This was no kind old man - he was a despicable, horrible person who had wanted to grab control of Robert Fischer's company when his father had passed away. Although they weren't any better.

"Don't trust him," Ariadne whispered.

The amused gleam in Browning's eyes confirmed her uncertainties.

"You'll just have to - you have no other alternatives, beautiful," he told her slyly.

Ariadne suppressed a shudder of disgust at his tone of voice.

"What do you want from us?" Eames asked giving Ariadne an apologetic look and slowly lowering his weapon.

"I want you to work for me," Browning replied, "I have a job for you."

"But we already have one!" Ariadne couldn't help blurting out.

"I'm sure you'd much rather accept mine. You see, if you don't agree, I'm afraid my friends up there may have to pull the trigger."

* * *

Arthur leaped to the side and narrowly missed the two gunshots that had been fired at him. He rolled behind a couch and tried to figure out how he was going to get out of this mess.

No time to think, more bullets were flying everywhere as everyone in the hotel lobby tried to kill him. Swivelling around, he shot back, trying to aim despite the debris.

Why haven't the police been alerted? He was pretty sure the racket they were making could be heard from the Eiffel Tower.

He dove behind a pillar and took deep, heaving breaths, then aimed his gun and fired a few returning shots.

Even in the midst of the chaos, he couldn't help wondering how Ariadne was holding up.

* * *

"What's the job?" Eames asked quietly, not even bothering to look up, his eyes trained on Browning.

"Simple, I want revenge. So, I want Saito's company to go down. I want him to suffer, and regret having ever hired you to place the idea in Robert's head. I want my old life back," He paused, and for a second, Ariadne thought he looked almost, forlorn, "I hate having to resort to this, but it seems to be the only way to get what I want."

"But how do you know we did it?" Ariadne asked.

"A little birdie told me; and you don't look so innocent yourself, sweetheart," Browning said, an evil twinkle in his eye, "Let's just say you're not the only team of extractors in this world."

"Yes, but -"

"Tut tut tut," Browning wagged a finger at Eames, "I'm not done yet. You will be working with another team - one that I have personally selected, to ensure that you do not fail. I suggest you start walking now," he continued briskly, "We have to pick your friend Arthur up and meet the rest of your colleagues."

* * *

"Stop! Don't shoot!" A voice called out.

He peeked around the pillar he was hiding behind, gun on the ready, and surprise almost made him pull the trigger, when he saw Peter Browning standing in the middle of the lobby, Ariadne and Eames by his side.

"I have a proposition for you, Arthur. If you don't step out now, your two friends over here will be dead faster than you can say 'capiche'," Peter Browning declared.

A second later, he stumbled out from behind the pillar and Ariadne rushed towards him.

"Are you okay?" She asked, and he could feel her panic. He gave her a cursory nod and tried to brush her off, but for some strange reason, she seemed adamant on the fact that she should grope his body.

He noticed the faint blush that colored her cheeks as she checked him, looking for any injuries - he wondered if it was because of their closeness, or if it was due to the heat and situation; until suddenly, her hand brushed against something wet.

Arthur felt her warm hand gently peel back his suit jacket and was surprised to find blood seeping through his crisp, clean white shirt.

"Oh," was all he could say. He hadn't even felt anything. He still didn't, and hoped he never would.

* * *

**so i rewatched inception. :) haha. and i edited this chapter coz i felt it didn't have enough. oomph. thank you DouceT for pointing out the lack of character development. i'll be sure to work on that. and thanks for the reviews and favorites and alerts!**


	5. Chapter 5 : Ground

Chapter 5 : Ground

White. Arthur wondered if this is what heaven is like, white everywhere. He moaned and tried to sit up, then realized that his entire body was throbbing, like he'd just been hit by a freight train - and he knew how _that_ felt because he actually had been hit by a freight train before, albeit in a dream.

No, he couldn't be in heaven. If he was in heaven, it would mean that he was dead, and when you're dead, you're not supposed to feel pain, right? Damn, his head hurt.

Taking deep breaths, he assessed his surroundings and tried to figure out where the heck he was. He could tell that he was on a bed - it was soft and he could feel a pillow beneath his head.

Next, he strained his neck and tried to catch a glimpse of what was around the room, without moving his already sore body. After several awkward tries, he gave up.

Sighing, he grit his teeth and slowly used his arms to gradually lift his body into an upright sitting position. He almost cried out in shock and pain when he felt a sharp stab in his abdomen. He looked down and to his utmost surprise (not really, since he couldn't be in this much pain and not be injured. He had no idea why he hadn't checked sooner), realized that his entire abdominal area was wrapped in clean white cloth.

* * *

Ariadne strode half-heartedly towards Arthur's room. She could see it all play out in her mind's eye. Arthur was going to be lying there, looking pale, handsome and dead. She would sigh, grab the chair sitting by the door and splutter on and on about her day.

She honestly had no idea why she did it. It wasn't even like they'd known each other that well. And yet she felt some odd compulsion to just, be with him. To sit by his bedside, waiting for him to recover, hoping that somehow her being there would bring him back.

Ariadne clasped the door knob tightly, turned it, and almost had an aneurysm. Arthur was sitting up - with a grimace on his face, but whatever. He was alive! She squashed the impulse to smother him with a hug. Instead, she grinned at him and he gave her a rather pained smile back.

"Hi," he said, waving his hand and gesturing for her to come over. She took slow, pre-cautious steps toward him, almost afraid if she made a sudden movement, he'd explode or something.

"How are you feeling?" She asked and came to a stop by his bedside.

"In pain," He replied wryly.

"Oh." Gosh she was stupid. Obviously he'd be in pain! Who wouldn't be after getting shot in the stomach?

"So, uh, where are we exactly?"

She paused and eyed him for a second, trying to discern if informing him of his location would make his situation worse.

"Well?" He prodded, lifting an eyebrow.

"Um. I don't know much but we're in a controlled facility. I'm not entirely sure where it is - we were all bound, gagged and blindfolded before we were brought here," She focused on his hand, which she hadn't noticed had found its way to hers.

"I take it Browning got to us then?"

She nodded and there was a slight pause as she ran his words over in her head again. Browning? Wait, that meant that he had known that they were in danger!

"You knew? And you didn't warn me?" She snapped, unable to keep the accusatory tone out of her voice.

He sighed.

"I found out the night before they came, so I couldn't possibly have told you the day I visited you. I wanted to get you myself, but I had more pressing matters at hand," He told her quietly, "What do they want from us?"

She began to fidget - how to tell him that what Browning wanted was for them to perform another round of inception on Fischer Jr.?

Besides, something told her once she answered his question, he wouldn't answer any of hers.

"I'll tell you if you promise you'll answer all my questions first."

"Done."

"Who told on us?" She asked, only it came out more like a statement.

"Yusuf," He answered, no hesitation in his voice.

She gasped, "Where is he now?"

"No idea - but he's probably dead."

She gulped.

"How did you find out about, um, all this?" She gestured wildly with her free hand, the one that wasn't clutching his like a lifeline.

"I know some people who know some other people."

"Okay, final question. Was there an actual job before this whole fiasco?"

"Yes."

She nodded, feeling fulfilled if not satisfied.

"Don't you wanna know what it was?" He asked, looking at her curiously.

"No. There's no point in that, is there?"

He didn't reply, only frowned.

She couldn't stand the silence that followed, so she proceeded to answer his earlier question.

"They want us to plant another idea into Robert Fischer's head. This time, we're working with another group of extractors, handpicked by Browning himself. If we manage to do it, we're free to go - and another million bucks richer. If we fail..." Her voice drifted off.

"How is he supposed to know if we do it?" His gaze was fixed on the wall in front of him.

"I don't know. We're supposed to have a debriefing when you've woken up. So I suppose that's about now."

"How long have I been here?"

"Three days."

Suddenly, he turned his stare on her and cocked his head to the left.

"What?" She asked defensively.

"You're not wearing a scarf," came his amused reply.

She scoffed, "Well your hair isn't gelled up either, so you have nothing to be so smug about."

He burst out laughing and ended up clutching his wound, face twisted up in agony.

"Are you alright?" She asked, heart pounding.

He nodded and took a painful breath.

"Are you?" He asked

She shrugged.

"Look, Ariadne - I just um," He paused and couldn't help thinking how absurd this was, point men don't stutter, "I know this is probably difficult for you and all, but I uh, I want you to know that I'm here for you if you need anything."

She gaped at him, and suddenly her mouth moved of its volition and she heard a "Seriously?" escape her lips.

"Seriously," Arthur replied, nodding sagely.

She smiled at him and Arthur felt that maybe, just maybe, he was in heaven.

* * *

**sorry for the long delay! i had to write a thesis for school and it's been horrible. but, it's done so now i have time to update again. :) critique is very much appreciated!**


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